


The Necromancer

by tinydooms



Series: We Three Together [15]
Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Final showdown, Friendship, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, The Last Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27537991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms
Summary: The book was almost impossibly heavy in his arms and yet Jonathan did not feel it. His sister lay stretched out on the altar below, shrieking; Imhotep stood over her with a knife, and everything inside Jonathan was screaming in terror, even as he danced about, taunting him. Imhotep lowered the knife, looking up at Jonathan with anger and contempt, and that was good, it was perfect; it just might buy them the time they needed.
Relationships: Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell
Series: We Three Together [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714483
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	The Necromancer

**The Necromancer**

_The Mortuary Temple of Seti I, Hamunaptra, October 1922_

“The Book of Amun-Ra! I found it, Evie!”

The book was almost impossibly heavy in his arms and yet Jonathan did not feel it. His sister lay stretched out on the altar below, shrieking; Imhotep stood over her with a knife, and everything inside Jonathan was screaming in terror, even as he danced about, taunting him. Imhotep lowered the knife, looking up at Jonathan with anger and contempt, and that was good, it was perfect; it just might buy them the time they needed. 

“Can you read this thing?” O’Connell had asked some minutes before, as they stood looking at Evie unconscious on the slab and the Creature laying the unmoving mummy of a woman down beside her. “Can you stop him?”

“Well, I can read it,” Jonathan had said, “but not as well as Evie.”

“That’s okay, just do what you can,” O’Connell replied. “Distract him; get him to walk away from her, okay? I’ll go around behind and pull her off that thing.”

He had moved away to do just that, crouching down to swing himself over the ledge and climb hand-over-hand down the wall. 

“Be careful!” Jonathan hissed.

Their chances of surviving this were slim, almost non-existent, yet he was finding that he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to O’Connell. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Jonathan had grown to like him. Besides, O’Connell loved Evie, and if there was a chance of her finding happiness in the big lug’s arms, then that was all to the good. 

And so there he was, dancing about at the top of the staircase, the perfect bait for an irate undead priest. Jonathan couldn’t see O’Connell anywhere, but Evie was straining against her bonds. 

“Open the book, Jonathan! It’s the only way to kill him!” she yelled. “You have to open the book and find the inscription!” 

“I can’t open it!” Jonathan yelled back. “It’s locked or something. We need the key!”

“It’s in his robes!” his mercifully level-headed sister yelled back. 

And there came Imhotep, striding up the staircase. Now seemed like a great time to retreat into the passages they had just come out of. Jonathan hefted the book and scuttled off into the shadows. 

As far as distractions went, it worked. Rick, creeping around the back of the mortuary temple with his heart in his throat, was gratified to see Imhotep walking away from Evie. _Please let Jonathan get that key_. Jonathan had light fingers; if anyone could get that thing off Imhotep, it was him. Rick looked around for something, anything, to use as a weapon against the mummies that still knelt around the altar. Standing sentinel at the back of the chamber was the statue of a pharaoh, probably Seti, holding a sword. He hurried to it, keeping to the shadows as best he could. 

“Open the book, Jonathan!” Evelyn was shouting. “You have to open the book and find the inscription; it’s the only way to kill him!” 

Wonderful girl, that Evelyn, keeping her head even now. Rick reached for the sword in the statue’s hand and pulled it down. It was still sharp, somehow, or at least sharp enough for his purposes. He hefted it, wrapping his hands around the hilt, and jogged towards the altar. There were fourteen of the priest-mummies genuflecting around the altar; Rick had the element of surprise and that was all. No time to think about it. With a shout he leaped into their midst, swinging his sword. 

“O’Connell!” Evelyn shrieked. 

“Ball your fists!” Rick bawled, and brought the sword down hard on the chains at her wrists. One snapped, freeing her; the other only dented. No time for a second swing yet; he worked his way around the circle of priests towards her feet, hacking and stabbing at the shambling corpses, cutting through the chains holding Evelyn’s legs. At least there was no blood; whatever was keeping their bodies going, it wasn’t that. These mummies were like paper, easy to cut through, disintegrating on contact. Rick aimed for the heads and upper bodies; losing them seemed to destroy whatever magic was at work here. On the altar behind him, Evie had worked an arm and a leg free and was throwing canopic jars at the priests, kicking and yelling in outrage. _Wonderful girl,_ Rick thought again, sending the last mummy’s head flying across the chamber with a swing of his sword. He grinned at Evelyn, lying on her stomach on the altar. 

“Mummies,” he said, raising his sword to break through her last chain.

Evie grinned back at him, close to laughing with relief. And then something pulled Rick’s feet out from under him and he fell on his stomach with a yelp and a crack: one of the priests, dragging at him. Evie pulled herself up and fell back, the chain around her ankle catching on something. She struggled against it, screeching; if she could only get free, she could help him. Rick’s sword had fallen wide; he struggled against two of the priests scrabbling at his neck and his legs. He couldn’t get free and the sword was just out of reach. 

Evie lay across the altar, her left wrist still manacled, watching as the undead priests held Rick down. He struggled against them; he was strong, but they were stronger. Another approached, holding a stele in its bony hands and laughing. Evie screamed and thrashed; her legs were stuck, only one free from its chains. She couldn’t pivot and kick at the mummies, couldn’t save him. Another priest approached, laughing, an enormous stone stele clutched in its hands. Evie’s stomach turned over. 

“No!” she screeched. “ _Rick!”_

No, no, no, not this, never this, not when they were so close to escape! It was like a nightmare, Evie stuck to the slab, unable to move, Rick grappling with the mummies, grasping for his sword and just missing it, the priest shuffling forward to kill him. Rick clawed at the creature holding his shoulders. Evie screamed aloud. And then Rick lunged, caught his sword up, and cut the legs from the priest with the stele. It fell back, crushed under its own weapon. Another thrust of the sword and the two mummies holding Rick down were gone, crushed. He leaped to his feet, swearing, and kicked the remains into dust. 

“Shit!” Rick howled. 

“Oh my _God!”_ Evie screeched. 

She couldn’t think of anything more sensible to say; her heart was going too fast. Rick ran around the bottom of the altar and freed her leg from its last chain, then ran up and smacked the edge of his sword against the chain on her wrist. Evie sat up and rolled off the altar into his arms. For a brief moment, Rick crushed her to him, and she felt his lips graze the top of her head. 

“Are you okay?!”

“Yes!” Evie said, clutching at him. 

“Good!” 

Rick grabbed her hand and they turned to run, and in that moment, a pair of doors on the far side of the temple crashed open and a platoon of mummified soldiers marched out. 

“Oh yeah,” Rick said, “this just gets better and better.”

Jonathan was not having the best time. He was unused to this kind of battle, where a man had to run and hide and evade rather than duck and cover. There had been nowhere to hide in the trenches, once they went over the top, and at least he had been able to rest comfortable in the fact that the poor wretches on the other side were as miserable as he was. This was nothing like that. This was pure, palpable evil and Jonathan hated it. It clouded his mind, made him sick with fear for Evie, for Rick. For himself. And so he hefted the Golden Book that had been Evie’s obsession since childhood and struggled to read the inscriptions. 

Linguistics had not been Jonathan’s focus of study. Antiquity, excavation and art history, yes. Actual Egyptian language, no. But he could read it, mostly because one had to know these things if one wanted to work successfully in Egyptology. That the inscription he managed summoned a troop of mummified soldiers was less than ideal, especially when they went after O’Connell. Even that wouldn’t have been such a catastrophe if the mummy of Anck-su-namun had not at that moment rolled off of the altar and gone after Evie with a knife. 

Jonathan did not usually swear, but for this he made an exception. 

Evie, standing shoulder to shoulder with Rick, was naturally caught off-guard. When the embalmed soldiers came marching out of an adjacent chamber, she drew closer to him, curling her fists and assuming the boxing stance she remembered him teaching her, back when they had nothing more than marauders to fear. The soldiers stepped closer, not yet inclined to fight but wary, watching. Evie still reeled from the shock of seeing Rick nearly crushed, of feeling his lips pressing against her head. She wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him again, even if he had a sword and combat experience and all she had was her fists and her brain. 

“Do something, Jonathan,” she said, trying not to startle the undead warriors into action. “You can command them.”

“Me?” Jonathan sounded horrified. “You’ve got to be joking!”

“Finish the inscription on the cover, idiot, then you can control them!”

It came out harsher than she intended; the soldiers raised their spears and Rick nudged her behind him. 

“I want you to hide,” he said softly. “Get into the shadows and get over to Jonathan, quick as you can.”

“But--”

Bony hands closed over Evie’s shoulder, dragging her backwards. There was barely a moment to realize that it was the woman, Imhotep’s lover, wielding the ceremonial dagger he had abandoned when he went after Jonathan. Evie leaped back, yelling, dodging blows. She had a last glimpse of Rick’s horrified face before Imhotep’s shout set the soldiers on him and Anck-su-namun chased her into the labyrinthine recesses of the temple. 

_Oh God, oh God, oh God._ As Evie scuttled into the shadows, desperate to avoid the screeching corpse that chased her, she could hear Rick screaming and the sounds of battle. How bloody inconvenient of Anck-su-namun to come alive just at this moment--had that been a side effect of Jonathan’s incantation? Whatever it was, Imhotep’s lover meant business. She chased Evie around the pillars and piles of stone, shrieking, stabbing at her, and it was all Evie could do to stay one step ahead of her. _I am not going to die like this._ All Anck-su-namun had to do was stab her once through the heart and Evie would die and the woman’s soul could take over her body. No. No, she would _not_ let it happen. Not when she was only just beginning to live. 

“I can’t figure out this last symbol!” Jonathan shouted. 

“What does it look like?!” 

Evie ducked around a corner and ran straight into Anck-su-namun. With a scream, she decked the mummy in the face, hard, a flash of pain shooting up her wrist. 

“A--a bird, a stork!” 

Anck-su-namun recovered quickly. She seized Evie by the throat and it was only Evie’s hand wrapped around her wrist that kept her from being stabbed to death. 

“Amenophus!” she screeched around the mummy’s choking hand. 

Somewhere in the temple, Rick was screaming and fighting. There was an awful sound of a man tumbling down stairs, of the undead soldiers roaring, and over it, Jonathan’s triumphant shout. 

_“Hootash im Amenophus!”_

The words rang out, striking silence into the temple. From where he lay on his back at the base of the temple stairs, spear tips just touching his face, Rick’s ears rang in the sudden silence. He was winded, his body aching from being flung backward down the stairs. Amazing, really, that he hadn’t broken his neck. Something had audibly cracked as he fell, but the adrenaline was too strong in his blood for Rick to feel it yet. _If_ he lived through this, it was going to hurt like hell. But the spears pressing against his face did not advance, did not stab into him. Rick cracked his eyes open. The mummified soldiers stood frozen over him. From somewhere to the left, Jonathan shouted again. 

_“Fa-hooshka Anck-su-namun!”_

The spears were lifted. The soldiers turned and marched away, towards Evie grappling with the female mummy. Panting, Rick scrambled backwards and up, scrabbling for his sword. _Fucking hell. Ricochet O’Connell strikes again._

Imhotep was screaming, filling the chamber with his rage and pain as the soldier mummies tore Anck-su-namun apart. If he hadn’t been a vicious killer, Rick might almost have felt sorry for him. As it was, all he could feel was relief as Evelyn scuttled away from the mummies into the shadows. She was safe. For now. 

But Jonathan wasn’t. Even as Rick regained his feet, Imhotep was charging the other man, forcing him to drop the Golden Book, pinning him to the wall. Rick raised his sword and charged as Imhotep wrapped his hand around Jonathan’s throat, strangling. In a panic, he rushed at Imhotep and brought his sword down hard on the priest’s upraised arm. The arm came away, falling to the ground in a rush of blood. 

They had seen men lose limbs before, these veterans of the Great War, seen them stumble and fall, screaming and crying or silent and staring, too stunned to react to being maimed. Imhotep did none of those things. The look he turned on Rick was merely annoyed, contemptuous. For a moment they stared at each other, Jonathan lying gasping at their feet, and then Imhotep hit Rick, hard, a strike with superhuman rage behind it, and sent him flying. 

Across the chamber, crouched in the shadows as he has asked her to, Evie watched Rick crash to the ground, wincing: that could only have been a bone-jarring thud. Sick horror filled her as Imhotep picked up his severed arm and affixed it to his body. What kind of a man was this, who could not be killed? He advanced on Rick, hit him again, flinging him into the wall, a cat toying with a mouse before killing it. The third time Imhotep hit Rick, he did not get up. Evie looked around for a weapon, something, anything, to help him with, but there was nothing, and the Golden Book was locked. Where was the Key? Where was Jonathan? She looked around, desperate, to see her brother rising to his feet, rubbing his throat with a smug look on his face. 

“Evie!” he shouted, holding up his hand, hefting the Golden Book. “I’ve got it!”

The Key.

Abandoning caution, Evie flew across the temple chamber to her brother. Imhotep ignored them, his attention on Rick. She had her back to them, desperately turning each heavy gold page, scanning the spells and incantations. _Oh, please, oh, please, oh God, please!_ In another life she would have gone over the pages slowly, reverently. Now Evie was only too aware that something horrific was about to happen to the man she loved and that only she could stop it. Jonathan’s face was horrified as he watched over her shoulder. Imhotep had his hands around Rick’s throat and was squeezing. 

“ _Hurry,_ Evie!”

Evie, fumbling over hieroglyphs and incantations, felt another stabbing of terror. From behind her came an awful gurgling. “You’re not helping!” 

Rick clawed at Imhotep’s hands. It couldn’t end like this. He dangled in the priest’s grip, feet kicking at air, unable to breathe against the force crushing his throat. For a moment Rick was back at Cairo Prison, dangling at the end of a rope, the roar of blood and the crowd pounding in his ears. This time there would be no fast-talking English girl with glowing eyes to save him. Then Rick was back in the mortuary temple, vision blurring against the sight of Imhotep’s smirking face, the man’s iron fingers digging into his jugular. He couldn’t breathe. _No. No, please._ He didn’t want to die, not now that he had something to live for. 

“I’ve got it!” Evie shrieked. _“Kadeesh-mal, kadeesh-mal! Parad oos, parad oos!”_

With a cry, Imhotep let go of Rick. He crashed to the floor and laid there, gasping. It was only his training as a soldier that kept Rick from staying down; there wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t hurt. It was all that he could do to roll away towards Evie and Jonathan, gagging and coughing, grabbing his sword as he staggered to his feet in front of them. Their hands grasped him, supporting him as he struggled to get his breath back, watching to see what would happen next.

Blue light filled the chamber, bursting out of nowhere and coalescing into a figure on a chariot. It crashed into Imhotep with a surge of energy that had them all reeling to stay upright; crashed through the priest and continued on up the temple stairs, the struggling soul of Imhotep clutched in its arms. The priest advanced after it, howling. 

“I thought you said it was going to kill him,” Rick gurgled. 

Imhotep swung around, hatred in his eyes as he looked at them. Evie clutched at Rick’s side. Even injured as he was, the big man stood planted in front of her, prepared to defend them to the last. Imhotep surged forward, ready to kill, and Rick raised his sword and stabbed him through the gut. 

For a moment they all stared at each other, ears ringing in the sudden silence. Then Rick shoved Imhotep back and away. Blood covered the sword. 

“He’s mortal,” Evie breathed. 

A horrible gurgling groan came from Imhotep as he stumbled backwards and fell into one of the sacred ponds. His stolen flesh began to melt away from his body as he sank. He whispered something, eyes wide with horror, and was gone under the black water. 

“‘Death is only the beginning’,” Evie translated. 

Silence fell over the temple. It was over. 

Evie took a deep breath and let it gust out, looking at Rick clutching his sword, at Jonathan clutching the Golden Book. They were bruised and bloodied and, improbably, alive. Rick lowered his sword and gave a small laugh. They were alive. They had survived. 

“Are you okay?” Rick asked, as though he hadn’t just almost been strangled to death. 

“Yes,” Evie and Jonathan said in unison, and looked at each other and laughed. 

“Yes,” Evie said again. “And you? How are you?”

Rick took a deep breath, rubbing his throat. “I’ll live to fight another day.”

They grinned at each other, foolish with relief. And then from somewhere deep inside the Lost City came a low crunching rumble. The stones and columns around them began to move. 

“Bollocks,” said Jonathan. 

“Time to go!” 

Rick grabbed Evelyn’s hand and the three of them ran hell-for-leather towards the temple stairs. Around them the Lost City shook and rattled, sand raining down like a fine mist. Rick took the lead, Evelyn’s hand warm in his, and only looked back when Jonathan gave a screech as he fell. The Golden Book, so heavy in his arms all this time, flew out of his grip and vanished into the sacred pool. 

“You lost the book!” Evelyn shrieked, sliding to a halt. “I can’t believe it! You lost the book!” 

“Come on!” Rick and Jonathan screeched, grabbing her arms and hauling her away. 

Wonderful girl, that Evelyn, but she had absolutely no sense of self-preservation. 

They ran full tilt through Hamunaptra, back the way they had come. Past Horus, rattling on his hollow foundation, thought the winding passages littered with mummy corpses, into the treasure chamber. There Jonathan faltered, staring at the artefacts, but Rick and Evelyn seized his arms and hustled him onwards, up more stairs and away. Hamunaptra was sinking around them, slipping back into the desert, and no amount of treasure was worth their lives. Already the doorways were half-closed. Rick saw Evelyn and Jonathan crawl through one opening and slid through himself on his belly. From behind him, a scream. 

“O’Connell! Wait!” 

Beni. 

On his belly, Rick reached back through the rapidly-closing doorway. “Come on, hurry! _Hurry!”_

But it was too late. Even as Beni reached for his hand, the doorway fell shut and Rick had to scramble back to avoid being crushed. He swallowed, his stomach turning over. It was a horrible way to die, but there was no saving him now. 

“Goodbye, Beni.” 

On, on, on they ran, sand pouring down on them, through shifting doorways and falling rubble and finally--thank God!--up into the open air. But even outside it wasn’t safe. The ruins of Hamunaptra were tumbling down around them, columns crashing, ground collapsing downwards. Rick held Evelyn’s hand in a death grip and dragged her onwards; she in turn held tight to Jonathan. Together they ran out into the plain before Hamunaptra, where once they had raced joyously across the desert. They skidded to a halt among a pack of camels--where on earth had those come from?--and turned to watch the ruins of Hamunaptra vanish into the sands. In moments, all that was left was a cloud of displaced sand. 

The three of them stood together, breathing hard, watching the sand shimmer over the Lost City. A hand fell onto Jonathan’s shoulder. He screamed; Evie screamed; Rick leaped a foot in the air. From his perch atop one of the camels, Ardeth Bey looked over them with serene amusement. 

“Oh, thank God!” Rick said, loosening his grip on Evelyn’s hand. “We thought you were dead!”

“Yes, thank you!” Jonathan rubbed his chest. “Thank you very much.”

Ardeth Bey smiled. Of all of them, he looked the least rumpled. “You have earned the respect and the gratitude of me and my people.”

Jonathan and Rick glanced at each other, at Evie. 

“Yes, well,” Jonathan floundered, “it was nothing.”

“No trouble at all,” Rick added.

It is so improbable for them all to be standing here, to have survived this, that they start to laugh a little. Evie slipped her hand into Rick’s. 

“May Allah smile upon you always,” Ardeth Bey said and, saluting them, turned and rode away. 

“Stay out of trouble!” Rick called after him. 

They stood together, watching the Medjai warrior ride away. He did not look back. 

“He’s just leaving us here,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. 

“Perhaps we’re not far from his camp,” Evie said. “They must have come from somewhere close by, before.”

“Yes, well.” Jonathan sighed, looking back over at Hamunaptra. “That’s that, then. I suppose we go home empty handed, again.”

Rick looked at them both, standing there alive and more or less unharmed beside him. He looked at Evelyn, her curly hair standing on end, a smile bright as the sun lighting her face, her hand folded around his. She was alive; she was safe, and the relief of it was staggering, and Rick loved her so much he thought he might fall to his knees at her feet. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said. 

Evie turned her head and looked up at him, at this man whom she loved. There were so many emotions at play in his eyes: hope, affection, trepidation, desire. He bent his face towards her, questioning. Letting her come to him. Evie put her hands on his waist and reached up, asking for his kiss. And Rick kissed her. 

It was a good kiss, gentle and tender, and when they broke apart Rick rubbed his nose to hers and rested their foreheads together. Evie beamed up at him, laughing, joy flooding her. He loved her, and she loved him, this dear, sweet, wonderful man. Rick’s grin was broad across his face, his body warm under her hands, and Evie gave in to temptation and wrapped her arms about him, pressing her body into his. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and let her breath out. Rick folded his arms around her and held her tight. 

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispered, sighing in relief. “I’ve got you.”

They held each other for a long while, arms warm and tender, and then from somewhere behind them Jonathan cleared his throat. 

“All right, you two,” he said, mildly. “We’re losing the light.”

Rick and Evie parted reluctantly, to see that Jonathan had caught a couple of camels. He rolled his eyes at them, but they could see him smiling. Rick popped Evie onto one of the camels and mounted up behind her. She kissed him as the camel clambered upright, hooking her arm about his waist. She didn’t want to ever let him go. Together, they turned their faces to home. 

  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note: finally! I've been working on this for ages and I think I'd have had it posted sooner if a) I hadn't psyched myself up about it, b) I hadn't been rather sidetracked by Life Events (there was a death in my immediate family--not unexpected but still rather sudden), and c) I just...couldn't write for a bit. HOWEVER. Here we are. It's not perfect; it's not as good as some of the other fics in this series, but it is DONE and I'm choosing to focus on that. There will be an epilogue. If you want to see what our heroes get up to immediately after riding away from Hamunaptra, have a look at [Slings and Scarabs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882611) (Jonathan), [Sun-Filled Windows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256848) (Rick) and [Always Expect the Unexpected](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27049528) (Evie), all of which roughly take place at the same time and which I'm not including in the series proper. And I'll see you at the epilogue!


End file.
